


it's not a battle when i'm with you

by Rozjozbrod



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Battle of New York (Marvel), Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Post-Battle of New York (Marvel), Snuggling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-02 22:26:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13327647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozjozbrod/pseuds/Rozjozbrod
Summary: An academy!era fic where Jemma and Fitz watch the destruction of New York City together, and find comfort in each other.





	it's not a battle when i'm with you

**Author's Note:**

> Not entirely sure if this is canon compliant, as I couldn't remember when the Battle of New York happened in the Avengers. But I liked writing it anyway! There is a brief mention of a panic attack, just fair warning.

It was mid afternoon in early May. The campus was lit with the cheery bright sunlight of a newborn spring, and the sky above was an incandescent blue, dotted with puffy cotton-candy clouds that drifted lazily across the horizon. Leaves wafted in a gentle breeze, and the walkways between buildings were lined with cherry trees that budded with blooms in the lightest shades of pastel pink. The air carried the sweetness of fresh grass and sprouting flowers, and birds chirped as they dipped and rose in joyful flight with sticks in their tiny beaks. 

But the campus was empty. No students roamed the quads, nor stopped to talk in the coffee shops between lectures. Classroom doors were left open with white chalk hastily dropped on the floor before chalkboards covered in unfinished calculations. 

Then, a young girl broke the quiet, sprinting down the brick breezeways between lecture halls. A flock of birds took flight as she tore past, squawking in surprise at her quickness. Her cheeks were bright pink and there was a wildness to her eyes, her brown hair billowing behind her. Through the lifeless campus, her heavy footsteps echoed loudly against the stone walls and libraries.

She tore across the courtyard and then finally reached a tall building and pushed open the heavy door, already deep inside before it could swing closed. She pulled herself up a staircase, up one floor, two floors, three. Chest heaving, she wrenched open a final door and hurried down an industrially carpeted hallway lined with identical wooden doors. She picked one and pulled it open. Inside, a young boy with curly blond hair was asleep on his desk, face squished onto his books. At the sound of her tearing in, he sat up like he had received an electric shock, and flailed ungracefully at the suddenness of waking.

“Wuzzgoinon?” He yelled, his chair rolling backwards as he tried to get his bearings. When his eyes landed on her, he looked startled to see her there. There was a piece of lined paper stuck to his cheek and his forehead was crossed with lines from where he had fallen asleep on his sleeve. He pulled it off, looking annoyed. 

“Simmons? What the hell-”

Hardly listening to him and face shining with sweat, she pushed past him and reached for the television remote on his desk and pressed a button. Bright cartoons flashed into life on the screen, but she switched past them before the boy could even open his mouth.

“Have you lost your-”

“Shut up, Fitz.” She said, not breaking eye contact with the screen.

He must have sensed it in her voice. It was harsher than she had ever spoken to him before, but it trembled like it carried a great weight underneath. His mouth closed, a half-formed sarcastic reply was swallowed, and he rose to stand by her side as she clicked through channels.

“What are you-?” He started, more softly. 

Whatever she had been looking for, she found it, and stepped shakily back. It was a newscaster reporting from New York City, and underneath, a line of warning was being played on a loop in all caps. ALIENS INVADE MANHATTAN, it read. THOUSANDS DEAD. All the breath left his lungs as he watched, suddenly feeling anchored to the floor where he stood in shock. He felt his face paling. Cameras had caught shaky bits of the destruction and the screen played them now: a floating ship, the size of a city block, slamming into a skyscraper, explosions raining down from every rooftop, and the sky thick with alien spacecrafts that looked like they had spines and minds of their own. People ran, screaming, down the streets.

Beside him, he heard a quiet sob. She had put one hand to her mouth, and the images reflected off her shining eyes as she was almost too scared to blink. He floated, dumbfounded, closer to her, and she reached out her other hand and deftly wrapped it in his. Squeezing tightly back, he could feel the trembling of her fingers. 

“Fitz, what’s going on?” She whispered, fear quivering on every syllable.

“I don’t know.” He replied, equally terrified. “I don’t know.”

They watched for what felt like hours, their shared horror only deepening, until he recognized the rapid breathing patterns of the young girl beside him, and hurriedly switched off the television. Outside, the sun had begun to set and the sky was painted in broad streaks of bright pink and orange, but he didn’t even look at it. 

“Simmons, you’re okay.” He promised her, worriedly stepping into her view, and grabbing her shoulders. Her breath came in short pants. “You’re okay.”

“Aliens, Fitz. Thousands dead.” Her chin trembled. Brown eyes darting from side to side, she shook her head in horrified disbelief.

“I saw. It’s horrible.”

“I-” Her voice began to shake again, and without thinking he reached forward and pulled her into a hug. She clutched him tightly, digging her fingers into the fabric of his cardigan and choking into his neck. He could feel the hot tears run from her face and down his neck, soaking his collar. He shushed her gently, and ran his fingers up and down her back as her whole body was wracked with sobs.

“I’m scared, Fitz.” She whispered, and her breath made goosebumps erupt on his neck as she grabbed him.

“Me too.” He assured her, rocking her back and forth. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up.” She apologized, voice still trembling. “When I heard, I just didn’t want to be alone.”

“It’s okay.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s embrace as the sun went down. Low spring shadows danced along the walls that were covered in cork boards and taped-up diagrams of complicated machinery. All around them, his floor was littered with laundry and his bed was unmade. Crumpled pieces of paper were strewn about his wastepaper basket, and his desk was a mess of broken pencils, unsteady stacks of textbooks, and crossed out homework problems. Yet he held her and all of it faded away. 

She broke apart first and hastily wiped the tears from her eyes, almost blushing. There was a loose strand of hair framing her cheek and she pushed it behind her ear, gaze falling to the floor. 

“You okay?” He asked, peering into her eyes.

She nodded, but still looked pale and shaken up. He glanced to his desk, and the wave of university responsibilities crashed into him, making him inwardly cringe. He still had his final project to complete, plus a lab for Professor Weaver, and two absurdly difficult calculations to solve before bed. Jemma shifted her weight like she understood, even though he hadn’t said a word. 

“I should go.” She decided. 

“Simmons-”

“So rude of me to burst in on you, especially during finals week. I should have called-”

“Sim-”

“I’ll leave you.” She hurried to finish her sentence. “I’m so-”

“Hey-”

“I’ll see you later-” She babbled, and she went to turn from the room, her cheeks flushing in shame. “I-”

“Stay.” He interrupted, and her words fumbled to a stop. Turning to him slowly, he thought that the silence that followed was physically pressing in on his chest. He was embarrassed that his words had come out almost sounding like a command. He looked to his shoes. “I don’t want to be alone either. I-I want you to stay. If you want.”

Glancing back up, he saw a light smile drawn upon her features. “Okay.” She whispered. 

In the end, he didn’t get much of his work done. The sky faded from pink to orange to darkness, and the first bright stars blinked into existence as he cleared a spot for the two of them on his four-poster. She crawled up beside him and leaned her head onto his shoulder and he unconsciously wrapped his arm around her, keeping her held tightly to him. 

“Do you want to watch something?” He asked, turning his nose into her hair.

She only shook her head. “I just want to lay here.”

“Okay.”

He pulled her a bit closer and she put one hand over his chest. It caused a flutter to erupt in his stomach, but he squashed it as quickly as it had come. As she burrowed closer to him, he worried that she might feel how fast his heart was beating and tried not to stiffen underneath her. His eyes found the starry night outside, and he began to stroke her arm gently.

With his fingers gently tracing up and down her arm, and his heart beating steadily in his chest, she began to slowly relax. After a day of stress, it hardly took more than the comforting smell of him and his rhythmic breathing before she found herself slipping into sleep. Before it could pull her completely under, she leaned her face up and pressed her mouth up to kiss the underside of his jaw. He was soft and he radiated warmth, his skin sweet on her lips.

“Thank you, Fitz.” She murmured, before leaning back down.

“Anytime.”

She hardly caught his reply. Sleep had pulled her under and in moments her breathing had slowed. His heart pounded steadily for a while longer, until he too felt exhausted and calm beside her. As his eyes slipped closed, he wondered what would happen if anyone had found them-- two lab partners with their legs intertwined and fingers laced together in an all-male dorm. It hardly registered to him to care. 

When they woke, stiff and bleary the next morning, the sun had barely risen over the lowest buildings. They blushed and separated, and she left quietly and with a small wave and he restarted his studies with a hint of color on his cheeks. As she walked down the breezeways back to her own dorm, she heard the complaints of other students in passing.

“Could hardly sleep-”

“Kept thinking about it all night-”

“How are we ever going to feel safe again-?”

She kept her quiet grin to herself.


End file.
